


Silence of the Chaos

by MaladaptiveNinjaReturns



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, POV Loki (Marvel), Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 09:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns/pseuds/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns
Summary: Hunting down the remnants of Thanos' influence in the Universe, Loki finds himself questioning his feelings towards you. In doing so, he finds more than he was looking for





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Loki's POV. So, enjoy it in his deep, smooth, husky voice that can burn your skin even when it is glazed with ice. ;)

Power.  
Madness.  
Chaos.

Go wherever I might, these three things are like seeds waiting to be nurtured, to be brought back to life. Time and again, these maligned elements are planted- sometimes knowingly, other times, just thrown into the wind without a care in the world- and soddened with reasons carrying self-preservation wrapped nicely in the silk of what is the right thing to do.  
And the similar is happening now as I look down at the Chitauri kneeling in front of me, gasping for air, trying to break my purpose-filled hands locked around its throat.  
It makes one last attempt to tear my flesh with its rusty metal weaponry before I summon my knives to be coloured in its blood as its body writhes momentarily before the light in those repulsive eyes vanishes.  
Pathetic.  
That is what all of them are- pathetic. Dull creatures holding the sharp cold metals high in front of their faces, the monsters howling into the transparent sky as they charge towards us. Not even a single one of these minions have any perception of the painful death that awaits them. Though the more I ponder upon it, the more I am sure that these vile brainless monsters have not felt pain ever since they were recruited to take over Midgard.  
  
Defiling the last Chitauri of its internal organs, I turn towards the exhausted scowls of the unordinary beings who have accompanied me to wipe the last traces of the mad Titan’s sway from all the Nine Realms.  
Anger, fun, frustration and disgust, though the last of them could be, what I have been corrected on time and again by the humans, more tastefully defined as ‘yucky’.  
I have to admit I never thought I would be seeing myself working with this sad, degenerate lot. Yet, here we are. Desperate times call for aid from such wild characters. No wonder that brother mine gets along so well with all of them.  
  
“Forty-Six! I killed forty-six of these stupid punks! Nice! A little gross but nice.”  
Korg is elated at some unclear predefined count that he has been keeping. Clearly, the rest of the lot is as blank as I.  
“What are you, hundred?” Brunnhilde takes out her sword from inside the corpse of a Chitauri lying beneath her feet.  
“What does he mean fourt-”  
“It’s his equivalent of your sixty-nine.”  
“…oh. Okay. Is that it? Is that the last of them?”  
Your breathless words fill the air around us while the scarring breeze tangles your already mess of hair around your face. I stop for a fleeting moment to do nothing but admit to myself the noticeable allure of death that has so vividly touched your skin and walked by as the solar star grazes the seabeds of the dark oceans inside your eyes. How could someone so imperfect as a human shine with such passion when it was smeared by the insides of a mindless monstrosity that it just killed?  
“Yes, it’s the last of them. I don’t sense anyone else on this planet or any other in this solar system,” the fiercest one, Nebula, is quick to answer, bringing me back to the present, away from my meandering thoughts towards you. She is the least bothersome of the lot. Fueled with the objective at hand, she talks less and works more, efficiently even. I have never seen someone so mechanical yet so driven by emotion. Had she been by Thanos’ side, I doubt we would have ever made it out alive in any possible timeline.  It would be a shame on anyone’s part to underestimate this one.  
“That’s good,” you say as you try to get up and away from the cadaver that surrounds you, “that’s g-uggh.”  
My reflexes take over as I bring my hands forward beneath your arms to prevent you from falling into the gooey remains. No one wants the ride back home to be muddied with the filthy odour of the dead. That is what I tell myself as the breeze teases my sense of smell with your sweat and artificial Midgardian fragrance. You are close. Closer than you are supposed to be. And as if that was not enough, you put your arms over my shoulder to stabilise your legs, looking at me with gratitude and apology.  
“Y/N, you are wounded! Come on let’s patch that quickly, shall we?” Korg announces as he takes your weight from my arms and picks you up, leaving a morbid emptiness in my hands.  
I push away my thoughts but not before Brunnhilde looks at me with a hint of playful curiosity.  
“Is something wrong, Valkyrie?” I throw my words at her.  
“Just wondering how all the locked up torrents would turn out had we not been mishandled by your excuse of a father.”  
She smiles her most noxious smile as she cleans her sword by sliding it through the fingers of a corpse nearby.  
“You can hide your hurt Laki, but this,” she gets up and sways her sword between me and Korg’s figure disappearing inside the spaceship with you and Nebula, “this is new for you. Not so easy to hide behind the edgy goth facade that you continue wearing.”  
I cannot help but mock a laugh.  
“You are worse than my brother, Brunnhilde. I am not a mission or a project you and my brother try to keep working on. Y-”  
“I’m not your brother. Stop comparing me to that infuriatingly bright piece of sunshine, okay? That one needs to calm down for two seconds in his life.”  
Brunnhilde’s words are a positive surprise to my ears but quite an obvious truth they state. She walks back to the ship with me, matching the patient pace.  
“Listen Laki, you are no one’s project. You are just a messed up kid with daddy issues.”  
I turn to her with such animosity in my gaze that she cannot help but raise her hands in the air as if she was stating the obvious. Well, she was.  
“I’m just saying don’t let an old man’s  blindness to his son- pun intended- ruin your chance at something new.”  
“New?” I scoff, “New what, Brunnhilde? Everything around us was built on chaos. Everything dies in it. There is no new. It is a painful loop of history repeating itself until we are fortunate enough to die and escape the formidable.”  
I do not hear any backfire from her and have to turn in her direction to see if she was even listening.  
“Now where have I heard that before?”  
The question was more for her than for me. Who would be wise and idle enough to speak the truths that I speak, without having suffered a hundred times as I have?  
“Ponder in your quarters, Val. We still have work to do,” I announce as I leave her with her thoughts to step inside the ship, move past the dull corridor and enter the meeting room.  
There you are. Again. Your frame perched up on the table, your legs already devoid of your armour, revealing the worked up sweat as nothing but your lounging shorts capped them above the wound. I watch you steal a glance at me from under your lashes, quickly reverting your eyes to your cut that Korg smears with a concoction made for you by Dr Banner and Dr Strange. Must be nice to have two of Midgard’s most brilliant minds device things according to your needs.  
I move towards the food station to quench my bothersome thirst initiated by the desert we had just left.  
“It’s fine Korg. Don’t bandage it. I’ll heal it when I get the time.” Your words come out coarse and unrefined. Clearly, the arid planet has worked it’s way through your skin as your once lively, saturated lips are now cracked and on the verge of bleeding.  
Humans.  
Your bodies cannot handle the changes as well as most of us. And still, you’re here, fighting by the side of an assassin-cum-half cyborg, a cluster of rocks, a former warrior of Asgard and an unstable frost giant. You are so far from home that if something were to happen to you here, no one would know for the next few years.  
“If it means I can slow down or minimize even a fraction of chaos then I’m coming with you,” you had so prudently declared to Brunnhilde when she was recruiting hands for me to wipe out what all was left of Thanos after his defeat. But you had done far more than just slow them down. Your powers had healed the Asgardian when she was cut open, restoring her to full strength, your knowledge and ability to be patient while learning how Nebula’s mechanics worked had saved her a great deal of trouble more than once. You might have not appeared to be a warrior- you still were not, in my eyes- but you were a far more valuable asset than any of your Midgardian friends gave you credit for.  
“Here,” I tossed a bottle of water your way, “before you die of dehydration. Would be quite an insult for someone who survived a month in space fighting off leviathans.”  
A snicker comes out of your throat. “Thanks,” you send the words floating my way before consuming the liquid within two quick breaths.  
Your eyes travel to Korg, who is keeping away the medical supplies and moving his arm up and down as a painful grunt escapes him.  
“What’s wrong?” You get off the table, wobbling a little, visible only to the one who observes you, forgetting about your own injury as you move towards the blue pile of rocks.  
“Looks like I pulled a pebble somewhere when I carried you. You are not as light as I estimated.”  
Amusement fills up to my brows as Korg’s uncalculated words leave his rocky mouth, only realising his mistake too late.  
“I’m so sorry, Korg,” you apologise, just like I expect, your fingers tracing your matted hair behind your ears.  
“Oh, I uhh…I did not mean it that way.” Doesn’t matter my friend. The shot has already been fired.  
“I-It’s all right,” you assure the dense rock as your tone gathers a certain edge while your legs keep shifting the weight between them.  
The door to the control room opens, breaking the awkward silence surrounding the two of you.  
“I have set the course for our next target. We’ll reach there in a week’s time,” Nebula declares as she picks up a ripe golden strawberry and bites into the blue flesh.  
“Perfect.” That’s all you say before you saunter off to the lower level, to the living quarters, still trying to cloak the pain it is causing you to move your wounded leg. A fine actor, you are.  
__________  
If I have been as observant as I give myself credit for, you are supposed to be in the shower bay ridding yourself of the muck you gathered by your still sloppy fighting form before you go off to find your humanly-needed rest. As always, turns out I am right.  
The sturdy mauve crystals- much to my distaste- carefully but cleverly dividing the shower blocks reflect the lights everywhere in here. The sound of water cascading down on to the brown tiles in the blocks echoes throughout. Brunnhilde comes out of the shower in her naked form, smiling at me through the mirror, justly unashamed, proud even, as she leaves trails of water droplets up to the sink beside me.  
“You are going to scare someone off like that someday,” I state, locking my eyes with her through the mirror. Her response is a cackle, which I am sure has made you jump out of your thoughts as your previously still figure standing under the shower- which had not been turned on yet- finally makes a sound, the kimoyo beads on your wrist colliding involuntarily with the crystal walls surrounding you as you reach for the knobs to let out the strong gust of water.  
“That’s the plan, my frosty raven.”  
“As for you,” she goes on, brushing the wetness off her hair, intentionally getting it all over my jacket that I just took off, “I feel your head still hasn’t taken my words. You should be enjoying a steamy shower by now. Not alone.”  
“My head doesn’t bother with undesirable garbage,” I disclose while revealing myself of my breastplate, feeling my skin breathe in the humidity surrounding us. I can clearly see her eyes linger on my form through the steam-covered mirror. “Like what you see?” I smirk.  
“Pity what I see.” Her brow jumps up, mocking me. “Your loathing is far more ripped than your muscles, Laki. Believe me when I say that you should be putting the better of the two to good use.”  
She wraps herself in her grey robe and with one last glare of judgement, walks out.  
The hot blast of water over my skin burns it in the most satiating manner. The coldness of my body readily lets the heat penetrate through as my aching limbs feel themselves dilate the acid cramping them up. It is only after every last bit of chaos has been wiped away by the heat that I realise your presence a thin violaceous wall away from me, resting your palm over the obscures of the crystal right where my fist is, it being the only thing near to explicit compared to your blur figure standing there. It only takes a shift of coloured shadows to know you comprehend the same thought as your palm moves away into the same blur.  
I stand there, turned in your direction, wondering what you might think of me at this moment; and then wonder some more as to why it matters what you might think before your voice catches me off guard.  
“Here,” you announce just as something flies from above in my direction, barely missing my head, my hands catching it before it can hit the floor. The tube says 'oil and damage control with lasting strawberry fragrance’.  
“For your hair.”  
The lilac around your figure changes a shade as you wrap yourself in your black robe and step out of the shower, leaving me to weigh the options of risking my hair to be touched by this 'shampoo’.  
__________  
I deliver a lazy knock on your door before opening it. It is evident from your disposition you don’t hear me come in as your robed figure rests on the ledge, your fingers playing with the edge of your teacup while your eyes look out into the darkness of space. Your wound is on full display, still not taken care of.  
“You haven’t healed yourself yet.”  
My voice breaks you out of a trance with a jolt, making the contents of your cup spill over your robe.  
“I didn’t mean to…allow me,” my hands move on their own, causing the drink spilt over you to disappear.  
“Thank you,” you respond with a smile that just reaches your eyes before disappearing into a muddiness of emotions as you steal your gaze away from mine, making me wonder if you can read the threads of doubt in my mind about you giving a damn about yourself while you float through space.  
“It’s one of the harms of being a healer,” you put the words together mildly as you clear your bed of the pictorial novels you seem quite fond of, making way for me to sit, “we forget that we have the ability to heal ourselves by our very own hands. Often, it’s the pain that makes us forget the latent powers inside us.”  
I look at you, frozen in the unmitigated wonderment of the extent of knowledge that your words carry which I am positive even you do not know of. Pain does make us forget that we are more than we seem to be.  
“Then all you have to do is allow someone else to help.”  
If my conscience had a physical form, it would mock me at the words that had just left my mouth all the while laughing at the irony.  
You look at me with hesitation before slowly setting yourself on the edge of the bed. I drag the cushioned chair out from under the table in the corner beside your bed and place it in front of you before planting myself in it.  
The wound is from the custom daggers the Chitauri used for close-range combat that had their hilts marked with poison- that travelled to the edges the more they sat in a Chitauri’s hand during a stand-off- which could kill a bilgesnipe and injure a God if the dagger ever went fully inside an organ. They only took them out when they were going for a kill even if it meant sacrificing themselves in turn. The fact that you had made a predator come to its last resort was making me question my judgment of your skills now. What had you done to invite such wrath? Was it the underlying power Strange and the Black Widow had warned me about? Or was it your wrath that I had the honour of seeing once when we had been abducted by the space pirates?  
The edges of your cut, marked with the healing concoction, had already done the work of neutralizing the effects of the poison but sadly the magical chemical cocktail was not an antidote to the pain that lingered in the neurons for the next five hours from the poison. I must say I am surprised at your composure as you sit in front of me, clad in nothing but two layers of black, your orbs glittering with an innocent curiosity for what I am about to do. How can you sit there, with such calm while your insides feel pricks of needles every five seconds in a new part of your body? The thoughts in my mind only drive me further to ask myself if you had suffered to such an extent before. I even ask myself if you were numb to pain before recalling the time you had nearly crushed Korg when he thought it was a good idea to punch you in the face regardless of you asking him not to aim for it during the training affair.  
“May I?” I ask for permission to go ahead, my fingers hovering over and around your exposed thigh carrying the wound. You adjust yourself a little, your heavy eyes locked on to mine before you give your approval.  
I feel you flinch just a bit as my fingers land on your naked skin with a purpose while my own flesh feels a questionable vibration on coming in contact with your warmth. My fingers graze over the hairs on your thigh, feeling the tiny tingles under them being left by the provoking miniature strands, till they find what they are looking for. We both do not seem to realise that we are holding our breaths as we follow the movement of my hands getting to work, one keeping itself under your hefty supple thighs to hold them in place while the other spreads itself over the wound, nesting over the perfect skin torn apart without a thought. Familiar glowing warmth starts to emanate with a green hue from my palms and a slight gasp escapes from your blood-gushed lips, forcing me to look up to catch the green lighting up your amazed ocean beds again.  
“It’s sorcery.” I find myself correcting any doubts you have in your mind that would be considering me similar to your kind in some way.  
You exhale and smile, to my surprise. “It…looks beautiful. It feels beautiful.”  
I smile in acknowledgement. You really are innocent. Either that or you simply appreciate this complexity unfolding before your eyes; you had been earth’s most powerful sorcerer’s apprentice once, after all.  
Within seconds, the torn skin is repaired and your thigh is marked with one thin line- a light remnant of the wound that was there.  
Your tiny fingers come down to graze over the smooth line, unintentionally touching my cold ones, sending an unravelling spark through my fingers. Is that how healers are supposed to work? Unintentional waves of a warm ocean washing through you, starting from wherever you touched them or wherever they touched you? Warm oceans are wonderful, I must admit; curing, even; but I cannot dive into one without considering what destruction would I be inviting in, leaving everything in my vicinity marred, or have me marred with things I would rather not have been investing myself in, though the former seems more likely to happen in reality.  
What are you thinking Loki? Did you really think about a human just now? Of all the life forms existing in this vast cosmic ocean, you were thinking of someone with such a frail existence? You were thinking of love and heartache for someone whose species kills and exploits each other every day for fun; someone whose time of life is not close to even half of yours. What has gotten into you, Loki?  
Is it because of your powers? It had to be. This warmth is turning into a heated suffocated thought now.  
“Thank you, Loki.”  
Your heavy whisper breaks me from the accelerating dark hues of my speculation.  
You say my name with a smile. It should be a crime by death where you come from to even show a hint of positive understanding towards my name. Yet, here you are, saying it with a texture of relief in your voice as your eyes search for something in mine.  
I slowly let go of your skin from my grasp, the hairs doing the dance under my fingers in reverse.  
“This could’ve been a deadly wound if not for the ointments and healing. You’re either getting careless or you have a death wish,” I theorise.  
The smile on your lips fades, the slight tilt in your head vanishing as you straighten yourself.

“It wasn’t m-” you stop mid-sentence, a sigh eroding the tensed expressions on your face, “I’ll take care next time.”  
“What is it?” I demand it out of you.  
You do not look at me, your brows turning with concern as your hand tucks away your hair, now a clean mess drying. Gathering enough breath in your lungs, your eyes come back.  
“Korg’s left side was open and a Chitauri had sneaked from behind him, aiming for his vitals. I was holding off two of them and in order to prevent the third one from killing him, I threw myself in its path, pushing him away from Korg in the heat of the moment and at the same time let go of the other two, making them hit their friend with the dagger instead. But I clearly didn’t notice the wound that son of a bitch marked me with before going down.”  
Something tells me you must have been busy breaking some Chitauri skulls at the moment to even notice until the rush faded, love.  
“Were you even in a condition to think?” I try to tone down my sarcasm as much as I can but it slips, the natural flowing stream that it is.  
But you do not notice. Your eyes looking at the void lit up by burning gases outside.  
“In that chaos and uninterrupted madness? God, I hope not.”  
Your voice is nearly a whisper and still, it seems apt to call it a melancholic melody.  
“I’d rather not think about the consequences of an individual’s lust for power in the name of 'balance’. It’s all the same. History repeating itself. Peace and chaos running throughout the vessels of this world taking turns. We, you and I, caught up in the transition period, wondering when we will be the lucky ones to take our last breath.”  
Brunnhilde’s words fill my mind.  
It was you.  
“But,” you smile with sadness in your eyes, turning towards mine, “it still makes you think in your fleeting moments if you will ever find a few moments of love or happiness not restricted or restrained by the chains of the chaos unfolding around you.”  
Everything around us pauses, frozen inside this moment. I sit there, wondering why I feel the need to let your words sink into my core. I even make the bold mistake of stealing a glance at your lips, parted with a question even you do not know, inviting my presence.  
Brunnhilde’s vinyl breaking into a song somewhere down the corridors breaks us out of this ludicrous trance.  
“Get some rest,” I insist, “We have a lot to prepare ourselves for, starting tomorrow.”  
I get up and you mirror my movement, walking towards the door.  
“Hey, Loki, is everything all right?” you ask before I am out of your door, making me turn in a bit of a confused contemplation.  
“Yes, why?”  
“Oh, no it’s just that you’ve never come to check up on me before, not that I’m complaining,” you shrug and give me a hint of a smile. For a moment I think I see your cheeks turn their colour.  
All of this catches me off guard. I don’t even grasp the movement of my legs shifting the weight while trying to maintain my gaze on you.  
“Everything is fine,” is all I let out before walking away towards my quarters in an uninvited and infuriating daze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Readers, you have been warned.

“You are getting back at me.”  
“Am not!”

I hear the contempt in your voice before I step inside the battle room and have my gaze land on the blue pile of rocks bending in fear and defeat while you are in between heavy breaths, frustrated and filthy with sweat.  
“All I am saying is you can admit that it offended you.”  
Only if there was a way to shut him up.  
“Shut up, Korg. I’m not going to say it again.”  
You were not offended, that much is true. But you had clearly been thinking about it in the morning, watching your curves in front of the mirror, wondering something to yourself before sighing with a gloom hovering over your face. “Was I wrong to love you so much, pizza? The least you could’ve done is given me a little more confidence to appreciate this.” you had spoken to yourself. I wonder who that excuse of a human was.  
“All right, everyone,” I announce to the residents of this spaceship- all four of them- as I come down towards the simulated battleground, “Within a week’s time we will be hunting down the-”  
“Sauron’s army,” you interrupt me, “that’s what we’re calling them because none of you will tell me their name while all of you keep scaring me with the ghost stories of the undead,” now clearly offended.  
“You,” I turn to face you in all seriousness, “you and Korg are the only ones who have never had an encounter with…”  
“Sauron.”  
“Sauron’s army. It will be more of a mystic fight than a physical one. You will be battling out all the scenarios with me until we reach their planet.”  
“Okay.” You nod, readying yourself, never questioning me once.  
“What?” the Valkyrie shouted from her end, done with beating every last inch of the punching bag, “you’re not even going to ask him what fight you’re expecting?”  
You take your stance, your hands hanging loose on either side, waiting for my first attempt. “I’m about to find out, aren’t I?”  
I feel a smile building up inside me as I signal Nebula to fire up the simulator, turning everything around you and me cold and dark in a rocky surface, eerily familiar to the silent graveyards smelling of death and the paranormal.  
A knot of mischief opens up somewhere inside me as I position myself behind you, replacing my original self with a mirrored shadow in front with my finest daggers coming at you. Your right leg comes back near me, positioning yourself firmly as your hands gather up the lifeforce surrounding you, appearing as if creating little balls of stars out of nothing.  
Like a thin sheet of a sharp metal, you slice through my illusion as the invisible armour protecting your back pushes me with the same force that I aimed my fist with towards your shoulder.  
Invigorating as it is to watch your sly smile for having tricked the trickster, you fail to shield your back again for another illusion, pushing you to the ground. A vengeance filled grunt leaves your throat and the battle of the minds ensues. Blocking the attacks and keeping yourself at a distance so I cannot come in contact with you is impressive to watch as you let the forces do the work for you. Going for my face and chest now and then, teasing me with the fine sword work gets a tad infuriating and I bring out the rusting sorcery to level the playfield- or should I say, tilt it in my favour.  
Just as I imagine, the control you have over the powers fluctuates, the blue hues of defence fluctuating around you, making you focus everything towards my attack, giving me a window to plant my real self behind you and grab your head.  
The attacks lighting up the field till now vanish abruptly as your swerve yourself around grabbing my face in yours.  
Two things happen at once.  
Your darkest fears come undone inside our heads.  
An unknown radiating calm in the form of pure white light travels through you and engulfs me.  
__________  
The sound of water spattering down on the tiles is an ominous note. The mauve reflecting off our bodies is the only shade inside the huge room, the empty cubicle between us the sole distance preventing an uninvited outburst.  
Yet, surprisingly, I feel calm.  
I feel…peace.  
The doubts, the torturous echoes inside my head for the past ten years and the mindless gnawing in the brain for the years before that, have all gone silent for the moment.  
The mental agony that weighed upon me, that I had learned to accept as a part of me when I was taught to shut down my emotions, has vanished.  
I do not recall the last time I felt this light; this…free.  
My aching chest feels lighter, easier to breathe with. The lingering numbness has gone away without a trace.  
What have you done to me?  
The question timed with the clanking of all your kimoyo beads in the sink outside brings my elated thoughts to a halt.  
Wrapping the towel around me in haste, I step out to see you balancing yourself on the edges of the crystal bed in front of the mirror.  
The water droplets run down from your dense tresses on to the clothing on your back, marking the blue with a darker hue. Your shoulders and arms are evidently red- my guess is you overworked the water temperature and never realised that- while your lips seem like they are about to burst with the blood that is overflowing through them.  
I walk over to your side, not knowing what measured words to proceed with when you catch my reflection in the mirror and turn in my direction.  
“Are you all right? You were in there for quite a while.”  
Worry.  
Pain.  
Care?  
That is all I can see in your tired eyes that have clearly cried under boiling water.  
“I should be the one asking you that.”  
Your eyes drop back as your hands go behind your neck. “Fine,” you murmur, “I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time. Definitely won’t be the last.”  
Despite the weight in them, your words sound so brisk to my ears. Your colours seem so crisp and more saturated now, your breathing more perceptible. Your scent…  
Your scent, magnified, swirling inside my head like a phantom dancing in the night without a care in the world. You feel so much more…defined.  
How could you…  
And it suddenly strikes me.  
“What you did to me…” I begin, getting your attention once again, “can you do it again right now?”  
Your eyes pan out to calculate my, hopefully not that obscure, demand before coming back to me. “Yeah. Sure.”  
“I might be asking a lot right now,” I conclude, “but do you trust me?”  
Your eyes, filled with a multitude of emotions, do not falter as you nod.  
Your hands rise to meet my face and I bow my head to make the collision more comfortable. The warmth is already surging through your palms and into my temples before you even close your eyes.  
Just as the familiar light starts to fill me up, I bring my hands to your face, carefully wrapping them around your temples.  
The calm now flows through you, crashing and immersing all the darkness that had been broken out of its cage, filling you up to the brim with the familiar feathery peace.  
When the white disappears from in front of my eyes, all I see is tears flowing out of the ones still closed, accompanied by a smile of relief.  
Your eyes open and adjust your being where you now stand.  
“How did you-”  
“Healers often forget they have the ability to heal themselves by their very own hands. Often, it’s the pain that makes them forget the latent powers inside them.”  
Your coloured oceans gaze at me in wonderment as I repeat your words back to you, smiling in their full glory. My own lips stretched without much stress, following your movement.  
We both stand there, content in the moment, not realising soon enough our hands still held the other one safely.  
“Loki” you gulp down my name eventually, not taking your eyes away, “you’re nearly naked.”  
“Very obviously,” I mutter, wondering if it was the air or my words that made you shiver.  
“You are half-dressed yourself,” I point out, watching your pupils dilate. It was like watching you open your deepest, darkest caves to let me in.  
“More or less, yes,” you respond, the shiver in your muscles reverberating through your voice.  
“What did you do to me?” I ask with an undone breath of sincerity escaping my lungs that my voice can gather, curious about this weightlessness I was feeling right now- something I was sure I could not have to luxury to come close to in whatever was left of my life.  
“Oh,” you seem a little surprised at the question, “I…I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything. It’s not in my hand, how this thing works. All I do is keep my intentions good…positive.”  
I perk one brow at your statement trying to make sense of what you just stated.  
“What?”  
I try to suppress my smile. “You attacked me with a ray of positivity in the middle of a battle?”  
And slowly, everything makes sense. Your shards of innocence blended with your powers, holding together layers of perpetual darkness tamed in one corner- you were more than one can see on the surface.  
“Hey,” you fume lightly, “as I said, it is not in my hands and the only way I can work with it is if I do not mean any harm to any-”  
Your final words crack into smithereens as I pull you closer. My bare chest grazes at your blouse while you try to steady yourself as my lips close unto yours.  
Your heated flesh overpowers my senses as they take in mine, all the unresolved knots lined up since your arrival unravelling themselves to wrap my existence with yours. Our eyes are closed, drowning in the first taste of each other, trying to make it last as long as we can before our lips have to part ways for the first time.  
Your eyes are still shut as your hands come down to rest on my shoulders, heating up the droplets of water left under their touch.  
“Don’t get me wrong,” you breathe, not ready to open them still, “but why?”  
My precious little human.  
My hand goes around your back, holding you close as I shift us to a familiar- now seemingly odd- room.  
“Why, you ask? Look around you.”  
Your eyes open, taking their time to breathe my close presence in before turning away from me.  
My room on the spaceship is more of an absurdity, to say the least. Draped in darkness, simple- with the white walls, the lone table in a corner with a lamp- and at the same time complex- with the books and sketches piling up in corners within corners of the piles, knives sitting haphazardly over maps strewn across the bed, the chair and even over the fireplace; cloaks and broken armour lying carelessly at our feet.  
I watch you intently, your observant eyes taking everything in, the fire beneath the ocean beds lit up by the cosmic allure outside the glass that ran up from the floor to the middle of the ceiling, drowning half of this solitary abode in the light of the nearest star.  
“This,” I state close to your ear, “is me.”  
Unhinged, untethered, undone by the monsters that keep me awake at night. It has often got the point of a returning apathy. Feeling there is nothing left in this world for me. No place to return to.  
I don’t have to state much as you take everything in, little by little, feeling the weight of the desolation in the air around you.  
“And this,” I mention, carefully holding your arms and turning you towards a mirror hidden behind a pile of books, only visible when you stood near the wall, “is you.”  
Radiant, gentle, delicate and tranquil.  
I never speak the words out loud; I just taste them in your thoughts.  
“I saw your dark corners. It’s only just that you see mine.”  
This strange emotion of trust comes up without a bother, watching the stars light you up in my room.  
“You don’t usually do…this. And I’m far away from someone to be trusted with someone’s darkness when I cannot even keep mine in check.” Your eyes glisten, the pain more relevant with the moisture around the windows to your soul.  
I cannot help but step closer, forcing you to look at me. “You are not a warrior, love. You are not meant for battle.”  
The slight jolt of offense in your eyes is evident at my words yet I continue.  
“You are a presence that makes your surroundings soft, delicate. You are not weak as you are gentle, a welcoming site after a long unprecedented day surrounded by worldly monstrosities apart from the ones within. You are mystical in every sense, despite my forceful ignorance.”  
A tear runs down your heated cheeks while a pent-up breath escapes your lungs as I wipe it away.  
“I should really be the one asking ‘why’. Why me?” I hear myself saying.  
Your adamant gaze strikes a vibrant note inside my core.  
“Why not?”  
Within one moment, at the flick of my wrist, I clear all unwanted objects from my abode while you reduce the distance between us to nothing.  
Your blood-gushed lips come back, this time with more to give. Your hands wrap themselves around my neck, tangling between my hair as mine find your back, pushing you further to me. Your lips open with a sensual moan, making my abdomen ache in need of more of you, forcing my tongue to drink every corner inside your mouth as yours dances for dominance over mine- a terribly good sensual dance.  
Our lips part for breaths, giving me the opportunity to tug the hem of your blouse for permission to go further. You quickly- but carelessly- pull the blue garment above your head with some assistance, revealing your exquisite form covered in a black brassiere. I can feel my heart quiver for a moment, urging my arms to pick you up and push you against the wall.  
“Woah! Careful,” you call out between the lust-filled kisses, “I’m heav-ahh”  
I cannot help but chuckle at the moans escaping your throat as I find the latent sensitive spots on your shoulder, tasting the much-desired skin on my tongue while leaving pecks and nibs to hear your whines of pleasure that make my member ache underneath the lone cloth that drapes me.  
I take your leg by the thigh and pull it up around me, my need to feel your burning skin growing by the second. You smell like the spring in Asgard dripping of forgotten innocence that I now reminisce; you bloom everywhere, flowers and songs alike, your warmth warming up this frost giant’s existence like the middle of Asgardian summer while your wet kisses are nothing short of the green monsoon.  
The heat radiating through your core is a delicious surprise, enjoyable to know that I can do this to you.  
One planned graze around your folds by the hardened length under the soft yet grainy clothing makes you groan and arch towards me, bringing a few more of my strings undone. Your bend leg presses me closer, grinding more of your seeping wetness over me arousing a hidden beast as it lets out a growl, making you press yourself further over me.  
The last of the chains binding it breaks and I pull you up from behind, carrying you to the edge of my bed before dropping you over. Your oceans now glow with a wildfire as they watch the cloth around me come undone and fall to the ground. Even though you’re a human, I have yet to see the sensual rave glowing inside your eyes in any other being, not that I am keen to see it in anyone else.  
I stoop on my fours on top of you, taking in every colour and blemish that marks your skin through my eyes. Before I can comprehend the movement of your hands, they are grazing my length, making me twitch under your touch. Your warm fingers wrap around it delicately, giving it light gentle strokes, forcing unexpected grunts from inside my throat that make you smile.  
The notion of my pleasure in between your palms causing the glitter in your pupils pulsates as a newfound desire.  
The desire to watch you come undone under my touch.  
I break your touch away from my length to take every inch of your warmth inside my lips, beginning from your thighs, working my way inside, while my hands part the edge of your intimate clothing from your touch starved skin. You help me, moving your hips up and sideways to allow me to pull them down, giving access to the welcoming dampness of your folds.  
And as expected, your moan breaks the mundane air that was surrounding my personal space, your hips jerking at the alien touch of my tongue at your highly receptive bundle of swollen nerves. Oh, the sight of you fluttering at my languid movements burns me up with this undiscovered levity, forcing me to stop and watch what you do next.  
Your head shifts up to look at me with pure fierceness in your eyes.  
“Loki!” Your authoritarian voice calls out to me, driving me further into the pool of a sensual quirk.  
“Yes, love,” I respond in the most innocent manner.  
“I’ll rip you into pieces if you do that again.”  
The growl in your voice makes my length jerk, making me tower over you to look at burning eyes being fueled by the glow coming from outside the glass just next to your head.  
“What-” I line myself at your entrance, letting my pulsating member drown in your liquor- “will you-” teasing your entrance with the tip- “do?” before entering your entirety with mine.  
Your lips part, eyelids screwing shut, while the sheet under you is a mess in between your hands.  
I can feel your walls flutter around me, the radiating warmth setting over and inside the hardness that I own, forcing out low growls from my throat.  
I rest my arms around your shoulder, bringing my face closer to your breathless state, wanting to not miss a single animation in your eyes.  
I feel you have the same thought as your once sombre features smile at me through the window, latching your gaze unto mine.    
Your hand leaves the sheet a mess and come to put my ravens- falling down from my head as separate threads craving your touch- back behind my ear, resting your fingers around my jaw and my neck, making me wonder if Valhalla could ever provide me such blissful peace that radiates through you right now.  
“I will rip your darkness to pieces to show you how much light there is within you. Someday. But tonight, just take me.”  
Without further ado, I move out of you and come back with the purpose of causal tranquil moans, grunts and heavy breaths, our locked gaze drinking in the pleasure we’re providing to each other, pressing further, synchronising better, reaching the corners  lighting up our bodies, picking the pace with a hungry ache.  
Your legs intertwine themselves behind me, the grip making the ache to feel you further while abruptly stopping my movements at the same time as you force your arms around me with similar strength, pushing yourself over me as I come down on my back.  
I see you laugh at the shock on my face, your eyes nearly shut with the playful glee. I want to remark your moves in bed as compared to what you showed me on the battlefield today but you see it coming, moving your hips in time to melt away every bit of the thought like the snow that sees the first rays of the hot summer Sun enter spring.  
Your last piece of clothing gets unclasped, thrown away in a corner as your hands take mine to let me feel the suppleness of your breasts under my touch, driving me further into this beautiful chaos which I had been sure, a few seconds ago, could not get better. And just when my mind appreciates the view above me, resurging the tides behind the dam, you stop, your hands dropping mine away from your tenderness, taking me by confused surprise. The smirk on your lips makes your intentions quite clear.  
“You see, that’s what it feels like.”  
I cock my brow at you, “is that how this is going to go?”  
Before you can answer, I am sitting up, crashing my lips in yours while pulling your legs around me, waiting for the right moment to jerk my hips upwards into, causing you to moan inside my mouth.  
Your hands go behind me, thumping into the glass to balance your upper body while I keep your hips steady. The steady movements come back, so do the heavy breaths and the throbbing ache. Not wanting to wait any further, I hold you in my arms and carefully put you back over the sheet.  
No more play. I am taking you and you me.  
Letting the pleasurable friction between us increase further than before, causing the tides to come up eventually, swelling behind the damn as our moans and grunts drown the silence of our room.  
I can feel your walls tighten around me, the swollen torrents about to burst any moment.   
Your nails dig further into my skin, the electric touch making my pacing hardness press farther inside you.  
“Loki!” escapes your lips in breathlessness, your features begging for a release for your storm; my own name a new melody on a harp to my ears.  
“Yes,” I affirm, my hand grazing by the hairs on your stomach to reach your swollen nerves and rub the surging tightness, making you moan and tear in the final moments of pleasure before you shudder under me as you find your release.  
My movements falter while your legs still shiver in and out of the high, my member close to its own climax. My mouth finds your trembling skin again, anchoring myself to you as I finally find my own release, marking your walls with my seed while my legs shudder, nearly sending my entire weight over you.  
Out of air and sweating all over, I feel your arms caress my hair and back, the warmth of your lips on my cheeks easing me back to you.  
We lie there for some time more before I pull myself out of you and clean you up, replacing the sheets under us in a snap with something warmer suited for your hot blood.  
“Is this why you never did fight me before?”  
I see you suppress a smile, your teeth biting into your swollen lip, as I lean under the warm covers closer to you.  
My thumb- with a life of its own, comes for your chin, releasing the perfectly flushed flesh from the merciless grasp of your teeth   
“Oh, clearly not. I never thought you were worth the effort,” I sing the words, making you mock a gasp.  
“Rude.”  
“This was me softening the blow,” I say matter-of-fact-ly, pulling your chin up to take a sweet peck only to be stopped by your index on your lips.  
“Are you sure you want to go with that explanation?”  
Silence.  
“Because,” you draw yourself closer to me, making me, the trickster, flinch as I feel your fingers run up my thigh- sending electric pulses throughout me- and land on my behind, colouring me intrigued, “you just opened the Pandora’s Box and there is so much more you have yet to discover.”  
With a newfound excitement in my chest on your words breathed over my lips, I smirk at the mischief glistening in your eyes, your coloured oceans dancing with such illumination.  
I confess. You really are more than I give you credit for.  
Before I can embrace you to take up your notorious offer, a familiar voice makes us break out of our cosmic bubble.  
“Hey, Laki!”  
The click of the door makes us turn towards the sound, helping you flop down, covering our glorified naked bodies under the brown covers. I push my hair back in one swift motion as I wait for Brunnhilde to open and show herself in.  
“What?” I spew the irritation at her.  
“You got some spare knives on you? I broke mine and we ain’t stopping on any planet for at least the next three days. I have to train Korg as much as I can.”  
Her eyes follow the empty room that just has the bed, the mirror, the burning fireplace and…oh no.  
“There! Behind you,” I nearly shout as her eyes almost turn to your clothes scattered on the now spotlessly clean floor, making a few of my best dagger appear out of thin air in the far corner near the door over a desk.  
She scrunches her nose at one or two before picking up the sharpest bunch with displayed satisfaction and walking out.  
“Is she gone?” You whisper from underneath the cover, your face- only visible from where I half lay- glistening under the light coming from above and behind us.  
“Yes,” I smile even though I know you cannot see it, a hidden joy of keeping such delicious secrets from our comrades.  
You slide out a little, easing yourself close to me, a smile stuck on your face too.  
“I should go before they think I’m missing,” you whisper, stealing your gaze away while planting your head on my pillow; a vision I curse myself of not having ever imagined with such allure.  
The thought of you leaving but not wanting brings an unspoken ache inside me before I push it away.  
This weightlessness surrounding me in this moment and the trust in your eyes is too beautiful to be ruined by the chaos of lawful judgment surrounding us.  
“Who says you’re missing?”  
You blinked at me in question before it dawns upon you.  
“You didn’t!”  
I smirk at the thought of another you singing off key back in your room, reading those novels before falling asleep half covered under a blanket and drooling all over; illusion imitating real life.  
“That’s…okay, I guess,” you state with a shrug, turning towards the dark space over us, a meteor passing by, reflecting the blue haze it left behind, in your eyes while I rest by head beside you, watching you be amazed by the expanse of life beyond yours.   
“This has got to be the best view in the entire universe,” your sleep-laden voice mentions, suppressing a yawn.  
“It is, isn’t it?” I acknowledge, never taking my eyes off you.  
Your head turns towards me, bursting into giggles that thaw me all over again, and then so does your body, matching my gaze.  
“It is.”  
Power.  
Madness.  
Chaos.  
Everything still surrounds us.  
Everything still crumbles.  
But you have helped me take a moment out of this vicious cycle and mark it as our own.


End file.
